


carve a hole away from the rest of the world

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, I mean, It Took Me Way Too Long to Write This, M/M, Non-Explicit Mentions of Underage, Time Skips, Very Explicit Adult Sex Though, When are They Anything Else, as usual, messy boys being messy, what else did you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16271192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: 1998: Wyatt Logan meets Garcia Flynn. It starts messy, but turns into something they both need.2016: Wyatt Logan meets Garcia Flynn. It starts messy, and only gets worse from there.





	carve a hole away from the rest of the world

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr prompt given to me by the ever-wonderful extasiswings. The prompt was Flogan Summer Camp AU.

Wyatt Logan had grown up with a lot of ideas of what adulthood would look like.

Coming back to the summer camp he’d worked at as a sixteen year old, now thirty four and divorced, had not been one of those ideas.

 

* * *

 

 _“Wyatt Logan?”_  

_Wyatt walks forward, staring up at the intimidating woman in front of him. “Yes ma’am. That’s me.”_

_Dad is gonna kill him for being away all summer but what else is he gonna do? Dad’s gotten fired again—funny how employers frown upon drinking on the job—and they need money one way or another._

_“Hmm.” The woman looks him over. “I’m Denise Christopher. I’m the camp director, I’ll be your boss this summer. Come with me, I’ll introduce you to the others.”_

_Wyatt follows her obediently. He’s totally in over his head here. Jess used to go to this camp as a kid and got him the job with her usual sweet talk, but she’s not here, and he feels lost without her. She’s his best friend and most times the only good thing about his life. He figures, when school starts again, he should probably ask her out. If he can get the guts for it._

_“Wyatt, this is Rufus. He’s another one of my boys.”_

_Rufus is a gangly kid with buck teeth. “Hey, man.”_

_Wyatt likes him immediately. “Hey yourself, how’s it going?”_

_“And this is Garcia.”_

_Garcia’s bent over chopping firewood like it’s the goddamn 1800s or something. He turns when he hears his name._

_Wyatt hates him immediately._

_Because Garcia is.... well, he makes Wyatt’s gut tighten in a dangerous way, the same way Steve McQueen in Papillon does, the same way Halle Berry in, well, anything does._

_Garcia takes one look at him with glittering dark eyes and snorts, “Who’s the fresh meat?”_

_Oh, yeah, Wyatt hates this guy._

 

* * *

 

Denise looked unchanged. “Wyatt.”

“Ma’am.” Wyatt couldn’t shake the habit.

Denise opened her arms and Wyatt dropped his bag, walking into her arms and accepting the hug.

“Jess called.” Denise pulled back, taking Wyatt’s face in her hands. “You okay?”

“I’m. Y’know.” Lost. Hating himself. Same as when he was sixteen and Denise had first taken him under her wing, been the mom he’d never had.

“This place is always your home if you need it,” Denise promised. “Rufus is still here. He’s around somewhere. And I’d like you to meet Jiya. I might end up giving her the place if she keeps up the good work.”

Over to the side was a tall man with dark hair, bent over the steps to the mess hall cabin. He seemed to be fixing a step, judging by the tools he had with him.

Denise paused. When she spoke again, her voice had changed, carrying a note Wyatt couldn’t identify.

“Flynn, come over here and meet Wyatt.”

The guy turned around and that was when Wyatt realized two very, very horrible things:

1\. He knew this guy. This was _Garcia_ Flynn. As in his Garcia. As in the guy who’d taught Wyatt how to shoot a gun, how to do a backflip, and had made him come in his pants, all in the same summer.

2\. Flynn was… um. He. Uh.

Wow.

Flynn had filled out, and shot up another foot, and learned how to tame his hair, and had a… a jawline… and was wearing… um… a shirt that really—wow it sure did stretch over his shoulders and show off his arms, his very built up arms that had hands very large hands ohhhh fuck…

Wyatt was so screwed.

What the _hell_? Garcia had been gangly with floppy hair and a too-large nose and was generally the definition of a… not so much an ugly duckling as a baby hawk. But now—now he looked like goddamn James Bond doing undercover work or something ridiculous and hot like that.

Jesus Christ, it was one thing to be _cute_. This was—this was an attack, a full-blown attack on Wyatt’s sanity and his ability to stand upright.

Instead of, you know, falling to his knees and giving Flynn a blowjob right there and then.

“Wyatt.” Flynn looked like he’d never seen Wyatt before in his life. “Name’s Flynn.”

“...what.” Flynn had to remember him. Right? “You—”

Denise was watching them and Wyatt told himself that was a good enough reason to not snap at Flynn. “—you remind me of someone, you ever worked at this camp before?” 

There was a flicker in Flynn’s eyes, and Wyatt knew, he knew that Flynn recognized him.

But Flynn just said, “I don’t really have time for small talk. Christopher, I fixed the step, I’ll be in the stables if you need me.”

Wyatt couldn’t help it. “Real cheerful help you got here, Denise. Guess you keep him around for the eye candy instead of the attitude?”

Flynn raised an eyebrow. If his tells hadn’t changed, that meant he was pissed and trying to act superior to cover it up. Wyatt smirked.

Denise closed her eyes as if silently asking the gods for patience. “Why don’t I hand you off to Rufus. I don’t fancy starting the summer with a fistfight. Again.” 

The last time the fistfight had been between Wyatt and Flynn as well. 

Wyatt allowed Denise to lead him away, feeling Flynn’s dark eyes on him the whole time.

 

* * *

 

Flynn watched Wyatt walk away and…

…kept watching him walk away.

Damn.

Wyatt Logan. The boy who’d been his shadow that one summer, the one who’d stood up to anyone and everyone who made fun of Flynn’s accent, the one who had kissed so eagerly and sweetly, the first person he’d told about Gabriel.

Of course back then, Wyatt had been a pale, freckly, spiky-haired teen who was all flailing limbs and oversized feet and hands. He definitely hadn’t been fucking built, with tight, corded muscles and a soft, pouting mouth and a five o’clock shadow and the perfect height to grab and pin to a wall and an ass that…

Jesus fucking _Christ_ what was wrong with him? Wyatt had honestly been the first person that Flynn had fallen in love with. He could admit that. But he’d been barely seventeen. He was not going to go drooling over a sweet (very sweet) piece of ass this summer, just because there was nostalgia attached to it. He’d come here to get some kind of—escape, to center himself, not to have a goddamn fling.

…but wow did he fill out those jeans.

No. No, bad Flynn. That wasn’t why he was here. He was here to center himself, because nothing else had worked to get rid of the ghosts of his wife and daughter in his head.

Wyatt was just an unwelcome distraction.

 

* * *

 

Flynn wanted to pretend that their relationship had never happened? Fine. Wyatt could play that game just as well as Flynn could.

He hated to admit to himself how much it hurt. Not that he’d been expecting Flynn, of all people to be here. Hell, he’d always assumed that Flynn was living in Croatia. Hopefully away from his awful dad. Hopefully happy with his mom. But still… far, far away from Wyatt. 

It had been safer that way, to think of Flynn as out of reach. Then it was nothing but a youthful… fling, something he’d done because he was lonely and lost and Flynn was his best friend, his only friend with Jess gone. It had been easy—or at least easier—to put his feelings in a box.

But God, now that Flynn was in front of him it was like the questions were building up in his chest faster than he could process them. Was Flynn’s mom okay? Was his dad still around? What was up with the wedding ring on Flynn’s hand? Did he ever stop feeling like he had to measure up to Gabriel, the son his mother had lost?

Never mind any of that. Flynn obviously didn’t hold the same lingering affection for Wyatt that Wyatt’s stupid heart did for Flynn. And that was that. Wyatt would just have to act like Garcia—his Garcia, dammit, because he had been Wyatt’s once, if only for a summer—was a different person from this Flynn in front of him now. He’d managed to hold it together somewhat while going through the divorce. He could handle being faced with his teenage summer romance (and he hated that he was thinking those words together in that order).

Didn’t mean he’d like it, though.

It made Wyatt actually miss being sixteen again, when he could actually get away with punching someone. Or, well, get away with it more than he could now as a supposedly-mature adult.

 

* * *

 

_“Back off, Garcia.”_

_“You got a problem, Wyatt?”_

_“Yeah, I got a problem with you standing so close to me.”_

_“Ooh, touchy, are we?”_

_Garcia’s smirk is knowing and dangerous. It makes heat curl in the pit of Wyatt’s stomach and that—that’s wrong, Wyatt can’t have that._

_His fist is moving before he gives it conscious permission, hitting Garcia square in the jaw. Or, rather, it would have hit him square in the jaw, if Garcia didn’t duck._

_But Garcia does duck, and he grabs Wyatt’s wrist, twisting his arm. “You think I can’t deal with a punk like you?”_

_A punk, huh? Wyatt’s used to fighting back against Dad, and Dad’s got a good fifty pounds on Garcia. Wyatt bends and twists and bam, punches Garcia in the stomach._

_“Boys!”_

_Denise is yanking them apart, fire in her eyes. “We do not solve problems with fists around here. In my office, now.”_

_After a thorough lecture by Denise, Garcia grabs him. “Hey.”_

_Wyatt looks at him, ready for another fight, but Garcia’s eyes are oddly… kind._

_“You want to learn how to really throw a punch?” Garcia asks._

_“Why are you offering?”_

_Garcia shrugs, a shadow passing over his face. “You look like you need to learn.”_

_Something in Wyatt calls out, recognizes the shadow that was in Garcia, knows that same shadow is in him._

_“Okay.”_

 

* * *

 

Flynn sidled up to him when Wyatt was checking the raft equipment. “Hey.” 

Wyatt raised an eyebrow at him. “Need something?”

Flynn rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I deserve that.”

“Deserve what?” Wyatt could play innocent when he wanted to.

Flynn chuckled, putting his hand on Wyatt’s wrist, stilling him. “You’re a horrible liar, Wyatt Logan. Always were.”

Wyatt shook his hand off. “So you’ve decided you remember me now?”

“Look, I’m—I’m sorry about earlier. I panicked.”

“You see a guy for the first time in twenty years and your first instinct is panic?”

“Well what was your instinct?” 

“To ask how the hell you’ve been, asshole.”

Flynn sighed. “I’ve been fine, Wyatt, how are you?” he asked with affected politeness.

Wyatt flipped him off and went back to checking the equipment. “I got into the army, got out of the army, got married, got a divorce.”

“Wow, slow down on the details, I can’t keep up.”

Wyatt had forgotten how goddamn sassy the man was. “I see you never learned to shut up.”

“I see you never learned to stop holding a grudge.”

Wyatt turned around, glaring at him. “What do you want me to do? Kiss you hello?”

Flynn blinked at him, surprised, but then a mischievous light came into his eyes and he stepped up, his hands settling on Wyatt’s hips. “That could be a nice start.”

Wyatt had the thought that this must be what deer in the headlights felt, but then his gaze slid over Flynn’s shoulder and he saw Rufus and Denise headed their way.

Oh, fuck. He shoved Flynn away from him. Flynn’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to say something, but Wyatt beat him to it by blurting out, “Hey, Denise, Rufus.”

Flynn looked at the approaching figures, then at Wyatt, then at Denise and Rufus again. His jaw clenched and his eyebrow raised in an infuriatingly knowing way, and Wyatt knew—Flynn was P-I-S-S-E-D.

 

* * *

 

_Wyatt goes crashing to the ground, Garcia on top of him. “Pinned ya,” Garcia crows, triumphant._

_“Get off me, asshole.”_

_“Not ’til you say uncle.”_

_“Okay, okay, fine, uncle.”_

_Garcia helps Wyatt to his feet, grinning at him, and Wyatt grins back, giving Garcia that telltale whoosh in his stomach. He knows what it is, and the part of him that says he should ignore it gets quieter every day. He doesn’t want to keep quiet what he feels. Not when it feels like he’s far away from the real world, from a world with a father who drinks too much, who scares his mother, far away from a world where there’s things like taboos._

_“Oh, look, it’s Ivan.”_

_…although sometimes the real world finds ways to invade._

_They all remember the Cold War, and no matter how many times Garcia has told them he’s not Russian, he’s Croatian, dipshits, some boys just don’t get it. Like Nicholas. He’s grown up like the rest of them seeing Russians on TV as the Bad Guys, and Garcia has an accent that’s close enough to the generic one they know that the rest doesn’t matter._

_“Not in the mood, Nick,” Garcia says, because he’s only got so much time here, with Wyatt, and he’d rather spend it making Wyatt smile and finding excuses to touch him than waste it fighting with a spoiled prick like Nicholas Keynes._  

 _Nicholas walks right up to him, shoves him lightly in the shoulder. “But I’m in the mood.”_  

_Garcia wants to say there’s a rape joke in there somewhere, but that strikes too close to home, too close to his parents, and Nicholas wouldn’t get it anyway._

_But before he can think of something else to retort, Wyatt steps in between. Gets right in Nicholas’s face._

_“Leave him alone, Keynes.”_

_“Or what? You gonna do something about it, hick?”_

_“Maybe I am.” Wyatt cracks his knuckles. “His name’s Garcia, not Ivan, and you’re gonna remember that. Or you’re gonna meet with an accident real soon. Hate to ruin that pretty face, right? Think Emma would still suck your dick if your face is all ruined?”_

_Nicholas snarls and swings at him, but Garcia’s been training him and Wyatt’s gotten fast. He ducks, grabs Nick’s wrist, pulls and twists, then cocks his other fist back and lands a jab right on Nick’s nose._

_Blood spurts out. Wyatt lets go of Nick’s wrist and Nick stumbles back, making a big production of it, wailing, and running back to the cabins, probably to whine to Denise about ‘the staff’ ‘assaulting’ him._

_Garcia’s heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s going to break his ribcage. Wyatt turns back to him, blue eyes gone dark and nervous._

_“You okay?”_

_Okay? Garcia has never been more okay in his life._

_Wyatt waves a hand in front of his face. “Garcia?”_

_Garcia grabs him by the shoulders, knowing dimly that his common sense is flying out the window, and yanks Wyatt in, smashing their mouths together._

_For a moment Wyatt goes stiff and Garcia thinks fuck, he’s screwed it all up, he’s going to lose his friend and probably get punched—but then Wyatt presses back into him and the kiss goes from awkward to great._

_Wyatt clearly needs a little practice in kissing but then, so does Garcia, and the fact that it’s Wyatt makes up for everything else. Garcia wraps his arms around his waist, hauling them against each other, and thinks that he’s never, ever, ever going to let go._

_“You were badass,” he tells Wyatt, breaking the kiss when his smile gets too big._

_“Fucker deserved it,” Wyatt vows, earnest as anything. “Anyone who messes with you deserves it.”_

_Garcia swears to God that’s the moment he knows he’s in love._

 

* * *

 

“Flynn. Hey, Flynn, wait up.”

Flynn kept walking. He didn’t have anything to say to Wyatt. He took a risk, he gave into his urges and tried to make a move on the guy, tried to actually go after someone for the first time since Lorena died because he was a stupid sentimental asshole, and Wyatt had decided he liked the closet again.

Fuck him.

Wyatt managed to grab Flynn’s wrist. “Garcia. Please.”

Flynn shook off his grip, turning around. “What.”

“I’m sorry.” Wyatt’s eyes were so familiar, big and blue and scared, and Flynn hated how his heart lurched. “I—it was habit, and I’m—I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine, I—” Wyatt reached for him again but Flynn stepped back.

“I shouldn’t have done anything in the first place.” It was stupid, it was heat of the moment. He should have known better. Wyatt was clearly still his soft spot, his weak point, but he couldn’t afford to get his heart broken. Not after losing a wife and child.

“Yes, you should have, Garcia…”

“Forget that it happened.”

“But…”

“I can’t do this, Wyatt, all right?” Flynn snapped. “I can’t… I can’t.”

He turned and walked away before he could do something stupid like cry, or tell Wyatt everything, or—God help him—kiss him.

He was so fucked.

 

* * *

 

_Wyatt collapses on top of Flynn, chest still heaving. “Holy shit.”_

_He’s jacked himself off, sure, but it feels ten times better when you’ve got another cock rubbing up against yours. And he likes putting on a little show for Garcia, straddling him, arching above him. Garcia loves looking at him, and Wyatt loves it when he looks._

_Garcia hums, wrapping his arms around Wyatt, kissing along his shoulder. Garcia’s got a bit of an oral fixation, and he gets his mouth on Wyatt in one way or another as much as possible._

_They’re going to be in so much trouble if someone catches them. Denise will understand—Wyatt’s seen the picture behind her desk, of Denise with a beautiful woman she says is Michelle and two beautiful kids. But some of the campers won’t. Nicholas won’t. And if word gets back to Dad… or if Denise gets in trouble because of Wyatt and Garcia…_

_So they have to keep it secret. But for now, out in the woods, it feels like there’s no one else in the whole world. Like it’s just the two of them on their picnic blanket, and that’s it._

_“I wanna do everything to you,” Garcia murmurs, his lips still pressed to Wyatt’s shoulder._

_“I wanna stay here,” Wyatt admits before he can stop himself._

_Garcia pulls back, staring at him. “What do you mean?”_

_Wyatt shrugs, burying his face into Garcia’s chest. “I just—nothing, I just want it to always be like this. With us.”_

_“It can’t be.”_

_“I know that, man, but just let me pretend, okay?”_

_Garcia kisses the top of Wyatt’s head. “Okay.”_

_Wyatt listens to Garcia’s heartbeat. “My dad hits me.”_

_Garcia is still underneath him. Wyatt’s never told anyone that before. Jess knows but she spends all her time with him and she’s smart, she was bound to figure it out. It’s different to say it out loud._

_“My dad hits my mom,” Garcia says at last. “Sometimes me.”_

_“What does your mom do?” He’s always imagined that if his mom had been alive, things would be better._

_“Lets him.” Garcia’s grip tightens on Wyatt. “But he isn’t gonna get to do it much longer. I’ve been fighting with you. When I go back, he tries to hit her, he’s gonna have to get through me.”_

_Wyatt clings to him. Garcia is whip fast and good at thinking on his feet but he’s still a boy, same as Wyatt. Garcia can’t fight a full-grown man, can he? What if he gets hurt? Really, badly hurt?_

_“What’s wrong?”_

_Wyatt just shakes his head and holds on tighter. “Just be careful okay? Don’t go—don’t make him do something, y’know?”_

_“Is that what your dad tells you?”_

_His father's voice echoes in his head. ‘Don’t make me do something I’ll regret, boy.’_

_“…he says a lot of things.”_

_Garcia’s grip is so tight it’s bruising. “He better not come to camp. He better not get anywhere near me. I’ll show him.”_

_“You gonna be my white knight, Garcia?”_

_“Yes,” Garcia replies, baldfaced and completely without shame._

_Wyatt’s heart squeezes. “I love you,” he blurts out._

_Garcia stares at him, eyes dark and wide, and Wyatt feels like throwing up. “I love you too,” Garcia says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world._

_Wyatt buries his face in Garcia’s chest again, feels hot liquid on his cheeks, realizes he’s crying. “He takes me out in his truck, right…”_

_He talks, and talks, and cries, and talks some more, and Garcia holds him bruise-tight, desperation-tight, love-tight, and Wyatt loves him as much as he hates himself._

_Which is to say, quite a lot._

 

* * *

 

Flynn couldn’t avoid Wyatt.

It clearly wasn’t intentional, judging by the way Wyatt scowled at him whenever he saw him, but he just couldn’t seem to get rid of the guy. Every time he went to the corral to check on the horses, Wyatt was there. Every time he stopped in the mess hall for lunch, Wyatt was there. Every time he was scheduled to be the raft guide, so was Wyatt.

Wyatt was making it worse with his determination to be a prickly jerk about the whole thing, ignoring Flynn fifty percent of the time and berating him constantly the other half. It was enough to make Flynn want to give him a black eye, just to remind him that Flynn could and would take him down.

The rest of the staff could tell something was up. Denise was dutifully ignoring it but Jiya loved to poke fun at it and Rufus was clearly completely Done, D-O-N-E, with the entire situation if his long-suffering sighs and deadpan glares were any indication. Flynn didn’t want to make an unhappy work environment for everyone but seriously, this guy…

The day it was raining and they were stuck on clean up duty, though… that was the day something in him snapped.

Wyatt was grumbling the whole time, gathering up the deck chairs, chucking them into the shed. Flynn rolled his eyes. “Do you ever have a good attitude about anything?”

“I don’t know, do you ever wipe that smirk off your face?”

“I remember you liking this smirk.”

“And I remember you not being such a dickhead, but y’know, times change.”

That was it. Flynn dropped the chair he was carrying, stormed over, and hauled Wyatt in by his shirt. “Listen up, you shit, I don’t know what your problem is—”

“My problem?” Wyatt shook him off, his laugh harsh. “That’s rich. I’m not the one with the problem, playing hot and cold—”

“Sorry, which one of us literally shoved me off because he didn’t want his coworkers to see him touching another guy?”

Wyatt growled and shoved at Flynn’s shoulder. “You—you are the most goddamn impossible person—one minute you’re all, all handsy and touching me and leaning in close and the next minute you’re acting like I’m trying to steal your virtue or something—”

“Bold statement coming from the guy who’s apparently decided to go crawling back into the closet, like Denise didn’t know what we were up to as kids, like half the staff didn’t know, like I don’t remember anything—”

“Oh, you think I want to pretend this…” Wyatt gestured between them, “doesn’t exist? That’s what you think?”

He grabbed Flynn by the shirt, yanked him in, and kissed him.

Flynn’s response was instinctive—he shoved Wyatt backwards, not to separate them but to get Wyatt against the wall, pinning him by the hips, kissing him strong and sure until Wyatt stopped fighting, stopped snarling and gave in, going pliant and kissing back soft and eager the way Flynn remembered.

He pulled back when he needed to breathe, his lungs burning. Wyatt looked like he’d been dumped into the lake in May when it was still freezing. “You got… really good at that.”

“I was good at it before.”

“For a teenage boy, yeah.” Wyatt tipped his head back to rest it against the wall. “Holy shit.”

Flynn couldn’t ignore the purr in his chest, the pride he felt at getting Wyatt all worked up. “You’re not half-bad yourself.”

“I’m not… ashamed,” Wyatt explained quietly. “I’m just—I just finished divorcing Jess, man. I didn’t expect to come back here and get knocked in the head by all…” He waved his hand up and down at Flynn’s body. “…this.”

“Are you saying I’m too hot?”

“I knew that’s what you’d say,” Wyatt groaned.

“I didn’t exactly plan for you, either.” Flynn turned so that they were standing side by side, backs to the wall. “They tell you I was married?”

“Yeah, I figured from the ring.”

“I had a wife. Lorena. And a daughter, Iris.”

Wyatt stood up straight. “You had.”

“They died. Home invasion gone wrong. Iris was… she seemed to be, an accident. I don’t think they intended to hit her. But it doesn’t matter, does it?” Flynn laughed bitterly. “My baby girl still ended up dead. And my wife. The last thing she ever saw was her daughter bleeding out and her useless husband who couldn’t save them.”

“What, hey, no.” Wyatt turned, grabbing Flynn by the shoulders. “You would’ve taken on my dad bare handed and he was twice your damn weight. If there’d been a way for you to save your family, you would’ve done it. I know you would’ve.”

“I came here to try and hide,” Flynn admitted. He didn’t recognize his own voice. “To try and… forget my guilt, I suppose.”

“Same. And you got me.” Wyatt shrugged. “I can’t change what happened but I can tell you that you’ve got nothing to blame yourself for. The only one who should be blamed is the one who pulled the trigger.”

A part of Flynn still felt like this was wrong. Not that it was a betrayal to the memory of his wife. Lorena would have wanted him to be happy. It was more that he still didn’t know if he deserved to be happy.

But Wyatt was glaring at him the exact same way he did twenty years ago when Flynn would blame himself for Asher, for Maria sticking with that asshat, and he was warm and soft and he wasn’t ashamed to be with Flynn and it had been so, so long, since Flynn had felt anything but cold inside, and Wyatt had always started a dangerous fire in his chest.

This time, he was the one yanking, starting the kiss, the one licking inside.

Wyatt melted, pressing himself in eagerly, taking everything that Flynn was giving him. Fuck, he was perfect, and Flynn wanted to learn every inch of him.

“Hey,” Wyatt managed to work out in between hungry kisses. “You know all those things we couldn’t do when we were teenagers because we didn’t know how or what we were missing?”

Flynn grinned, sliding his hand down until he could feel where Wyatt was hard and straining in his jeans, squeezing. “Are you suggesting we try those things?”

Wyatt gave a surprised little gasp into Flynn’s mouth. “Y-yes please.”

Oh, he had so much he was going to show him.

 

* * *

 

They crashed into the cabin, limbs tangled, hands searching, clawing, mouths sealed together.

Flynn kissed differently than before—all consuming, confident, like he was going to kiss Wyatt until Wyatt melted into the floor and had given Flynn everything he had, and then some.

And dammit, it was working.

They fell onto the bed, Flynn on top of him, between his legs, and for a moment it was so similar to how things had been before that Wyatt almost laughed.

“Got a new trick to teach you,” Flynn murmured into his mouth. “You trust me?”

“Always.” Wyatt might argue with him constantly but he’d always trusted Flynn when it came down to it.

Flynn’s dextrous fingers made short work of Wyatt’s pants. “Then spread your legs for me.”

Wyatt did as Flynn asked, shuddering as Flynn kissed him again. He heard Flynn rummaging around on the floor and heard a bottle being opened.

“Convenient of you to keep this by the bed,” Flynn noted.

“It’s your fault, jackass,” Wyatt shot back.

Flynn got his hand around Wyatt’s cock and stroked it slowly. Wyatt groaned. At age sixteen or thirty five, Flynn knew how to tease.

Then Flynn’s hand slid lower, his slick finger circling around Wyatt’s entrance, teasing him as he kissed Wyatt senseless. Wyatt ran his hands everywhere, finally getting to touch the muscles he’d been drooling over for weeks. Fuck, Flynn was firm and warm and heavy on top of him and he never wanted to move.

Flynn’s finger slid inside, moving past the tight ring of muscle and making Wyatt let out a kind of noise he hadn’t realized he was capable of making.

“That’s it,” Flynn murmured, kissing up and down Wyatt’s neck. “Let me know when you want another one.”

Wyatt got a mouthful of Flynn’s shoulder and tugged on it with his teeth. “I want one now,” he gasped out. “Or is this all you got?”

Flynn groaned, adding a second finger and starting to fuck Wyatt with them in earnest. “You always were a demanding son of a bitch.”

And that’s when Wyatt realized he had severely miscalculated because he had been thinking about Flynn when he was sixteen, when they were fumbling through mutual handjobs and learning how to give a blowjob without choking. But Flynn had really, really learned what he was doing since then and holy _shit_ Wyatt wasn’t going to last long if Flynn didn’t stop—if he didn’t stop—oh fuck, oh fuck, he’d just curled his fingers and Wyatt’s legs had just spread and his hips had jerked like Flynn had found some kind of puppet string, the best kind of goddamn string in the world, and he bit down on Wyatt’s chest and oh, holy, oh God—

“Garcia.” Wyatt’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, unusable, making him slur the word. “You—I’m—“ He shuddered, a low whine escaping him.

Flynn just slid his mouth further down, hitting that spot again, and again, and then he… oh _fuck_ he was sliding his mouth down over Wyatt’s cock and oh—God—oh fuck please fuck fuck fuck he couldn’t oh God _please_ —

He was pretty damn sure he moaned out Flynn’s name again as he jerked violently and came, as if this entire situation wasn’t already making it obvious that Flynn turned him into a mess in every way imaginable. His body kept shaking, even when he officially stopped orgasming, tiny shivers of pleasure still running up and down his spine here and there.

Flynn kissed slowly up his neck. “Told you,” he murmured. “So much left to discover.”

“Fuck,” Wyatt said weakly.

“Mmm later,” Flynn promised, his voice like goddamn sin. “Later.”

 

* * *

 

Wyatt knew they were annoying the fuck out of everyone around them but he really, really didn’t care.

He and Flynn had to be discreet because Denise liked all couples to keep PDA to a minimum around the kids (something Jiya and Rufus had gotten in trouble for more than once) but when the campers weren’t around… all bets were off.

Flynn, he quickly learned, still liked to press Wyatt into things: the wall, the ground, a convenient tree. He also still had an oral fixation, kissing Wyatt on the mouth, the chest, the shoulder, even the back of his knuckles once.

And Wyatt did not mind in the slightest. He would gladly go wherever Flynn followed. This sometimes led to problems, like when Flynn sweet-talked Wyatt into letting Flynn give him a blowjob in the staff kitchen and Jiya had walked in.

“Gross!” she had shrieked, clapping a hand over her eyes. “Flynn, we _eat_ in here!”

“Why are you only yelling at me?”

“Because I know it was your idea!”

It was like their last summer together all over again, only better, because he wasn’t a teenager and he didn’t have an awful father to go back to and Flynn was gorgeous and looked good with scruff and could fuck Wyatt silly every chance they got. Sometimes it was slow and messy, Flynn keeping him pinned and drawing it out until Wyatt was begging him to go faster. Other times it was harsh, rough, against the nearest surface as Wyatt bit down hard on Flynn’s neck to keep from shouting. Or other times it was playful, Wyatt on top, riding Flynn until Flynn nearly went crosseyed.

It was great, in other words.

They did things other than fuck, of course. Flynn woke him up in the middle of the night once and led him outside and up a big hill so that they could stargaze. They played each other at darts, and went swimming in the lake. They took naps in the hammock, Flynn’s heartbeat in Wyatt’s ear.

There was just one problem.

Summer couldn’t last forever.

It was going to end at some point, and that ‘some point’ kept growing steadily nearer. Wyatt didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t avoid it forever. He’d have to think about it at some point.

Summer was going to end.

And then he’d lose Flynn all over again.

 

* * *

 

_They’re lying in bed, Wyatt plastered to Garcia’s side, clinging like a leech._

_Garcia doesn’t mind. Tomorrow’s their last day. Denise gives him a ride to the airport in the afternoon and Jess’s dad comes to pick up Wyatt._

_“I don’t want to go back,” Wyatt whispers. “He’s gonna be so pissed I wasn’t around.”_

_Garcia tightens his grip. “Then don’t go back. Run away.”_

_He knows he’s a hypocrite for saying that when he has his own father to go back to, but he also has his mother. He couldn’t leave her. Someone has to protect her._

_Wyatt has no one to protect but himself. And if Garcia can’t be there to fight Mr. Logan for him, then Wyatt just has to get out._

_“I don’t know.” Wyatt’s voice is small and shaky._

_“You should. You’re smart and you’ve got all kinds of talent. You could make it.”_

_His shoulder is wet where Wyatt presses his face into it. Garcia doesn’t mention it. Wyatt’s proud and stubborn, and they always work best when they aren’t talking. He presses a kiss to Wyatt’s hair instead._

_“...I’ll think about it.”_

_Garcia doesn’t know it then—he doesn’t know it until twenty years later—but Wyatt does, in fact, run away._

 

* * *

 

One more week. One more week and then camp ended.

It was deja vu, and painful at that. Wyatt was in his arms once more, although no longer small and skinny enough to plaster himself to Flynn’s side. Instead they were both on their sides, facing one another. Flynn couldn’t stop tracing the lines of Wyatt’s face, mapping him out until it felt like he could mold a clay imitation from the memory of his touch alone.

Wyatt was dozing, although his face twitched in lazy amusement now and again as he felt Flynn’s fingers trace over his cheekbones, his nose, his jawline.

This man was absolutely impossible. He was stubborn, proud, obstinate, wildly emotional, and lashed out like a cat when wounded.

But he was also soft, so soft inside it made Flynn’s heart ache, and he was gentle and patient with the kids, and so scared of repeating his father’s mistakes, and brave and supportive and trusted Flynn with his entire being.

He wasn’t letting Wyatt go again. Not now. Before he’d been a child, unable to protect Wyatt or himself from the storms coming their way, but now he was an adult, dammit. He could keep Wyatt if he wanted.

“Wyatt?”

“Hmm?”

Flynn rested his hand on Wyatt’s cheek, his thumb stroking slowly back and forth. “Do you have plans for when camp’s over?”

Wyatt visibly pulled himself back from the brink of sleep, his brow furrowing and his nose wrinkling. “Mmm... why?”

“...I was. I was thinking, maybe...”

Pounding started up on the door. “Wyatt!” It was Jiya. “Tell Flynn to yank his dick out of your ass, you’ve got a visitor!”

“I hate you,” Wyatt yelled back. “I hate you so much, Jiya, why would you even say that—“

Flynn liked Jiya normally. Quite a lot, actually. She was like the little sister he’d never had.

But right then he honestly contemplated murder.

He was so close, so close to telling Wyatt he was in love with him, _he was in love with him..._

Now he’d have to wait.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt tried to hold in his sigh as he entered the main cabin. “Jess.”

“Hey.” Jess crossed over to him and hugged him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better.” Wyatt pulled back, smiling at her. “You look good.”

“So do you. This place is good for you.” Jess’s voice and hands are gentle. “It was good for you last time, too.”

“Yeah. It is. You met Jiya, I think—there are good people here.”

“Who’s the guy looming behind you like a bodyguard?” Jess asked, jerking her chin in the direction of the door.

Flynn. He’d waited outside but Wyatt could tell that he hadn’t been happy about it.

“That’s Flynn.” Wyatt knew he was grinning like an idiot but he didn’t care. He was an adult, now, it was 2018 for fuck’s sake, he could be bi if he wanted to. “He’s—yeah. He’s a good guy, works here too.”

“Flynn.” Jess tried the word out. “He looks familiar.”

Wyatt swallowed. “Yeah, he… he went to this camp same year I did.”

“Garcia,” Jess said, as if that answered everything. Maybe, for her, it did.

Wyatt nodded.

Jess’s eyes gleamed. “I always knew that there was something between you two.”

“Shut up.”

“Is it serious?” Jess’s eyes searched his. “Summer ends soon.”

“I…” Wyatt didn’t know. “He, we, it hasn’t, um, we haven’t talked about it.”

“Hmm.” Jess folded her arms, looking skeptical. “And other than that, how’re you?”

“I’m not drinking, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m—I’m really doing better, Jess. Been sleeping through the night.”

Jess sighed, dropping her arms. “I just want you to be happy, Wyatt. You weren’t happy with me, and I know it ended badly but I never stopped thinking of you as my friend, okay? I want my friend back.”

Wyatt let her pull him into another hug. “You can have him back,” he promised. “I want—I want to try. I just might be shit at it for a while.”

“I can live with that.” Jess pulled back, winking. “Now how about you get a girl some beer, huh? It’s thirsty work driving all the way up here to see your sorry ass.”

“You liked my ass,” Wyatt shot back, heading into the back to get some beer from the staff fridge.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Jess replied.

Wyatt grabbed the beer and was just about to step back into the main room when he heard voices.

Flynn and Jess.

“I just want to know why you’re playing gatekeeper,” Flynn was growling. “He’s an adult, he can see whoever he wants to.”

“I’m just looking out for him. I want to know your intentions.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“He might have a shit way of showing it but he’s gone on you. He was gone on you when he was sixteen and he’s gone on you now.”

“Well I’m gone on him too so maybe you could calm down a little, all right?” Wyatt had so rarely heard Flynn like that before, snapping in righteous, protective fury. “I get that you’re worried about him and I can respect that but have you ever thought that maybe I fell in love with him too?”

Everything inside of Wyatt stopped moving. He had to force himself to exhale, then inhale.

Flynn was—Flynn was in love with him?

“…all right,” Jess said at last.

Wyatt hurried out, beers in hand. “Here you go.” He handed Jess one and Flynn the other.

“You don’t want it?” Flynn asked, mild, like he hadn’t just been about to tear Jess limb from limb.

“Nah, man, I’m good.”

Flynn took a sip, then passed it over to Wyatt. “We can share, really.”

Wyatt shrugged, taking the beer and taking a sip. Flynn smiled at him, that soft smile that made Wyatt’s heart feel feather light.

Jess looked between them. “Right, I’m gonna go talk to that girl Jiya, she said she could introduce me to the girl who runs the stables.”

“Amy? Oh, no, Jess…”

Jess just winked and made her exit.

And it was just the two of them.

Flynn raised an eyebrow as he passed Wyatt the beer for his turn. “You okay? You look like you saw the ghost of that cowboy Rufus swears is around here.”

“Rufus is a scaredy cat,” Wyatt replied automatically. “It’s nothing.”

“Something.” Flynn accepted the beer but didn’t sip, setting it on a table instead. “What’s up?”

Fuck, he was talking all soft and patient and looking like he was ready to listen to anything Wyatt said and Wyatt was so, so stupidly in love with him.

“I heard,” Wyatt blurted out. “I… I heard what you said to Jess.”

Flynn froze. “You—you heard?”

Wyatt nodded. He looked down at the ground. “It’s okay if you didn’t mean it. It wasn’t her business to ask about something like that. She means well, she still cares about me but…”

“Why wouldn’t I mean it?”

Wyatt looked up. Flynn’s expression was soft. “Why… I’m—I’m a mess, I’m—I’ve got no, no plan no future I’m—“

Flynn strode forward, taking Wyatt’s face in his hands and kissing him, stealing any other words that Wyatt might have spoken. Wyatt couldn’t help but bring his hands up to grip Flynn’s wrists, clinging to him instinctively by this point. “I’m a mess too, in case you didn’t notice,” he said quietly. “I don’t care about anything other than being with you.”

Wyatt let out a wounded noise and kissed him, pressing himself into Flynn, letting Flynn wrap his arms around him and keep them tight up against each other.

“I love you,” Flynn added. “Saying it officially. Before Jiya can interrupt me again.”

“Again?”

“What did you think I was going to tell you before? When I asked you what your plans were?”

“…I don’t know.”

“Well now you do.” Flynn’s smile was like quicksilver before he kissed Wyatt again.

“I don’t think I ever really stopped,” Wyatt admitted, tucking his face into Flynn’s neck. “Not that I didn’t love Jess or want to love her but… I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.”

Flynn just tightened his hold, his lips pressed to Wyatt’s temple. And he didn’t let go.

Not until Denise found them and told them to cut the Brokeback Mountain bullshit and get their lazy asses into gear, anyway.


End file.
